


Rapture

by jakia



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Death is but the next great adventure."  Greek myth!AU.  Kurt and Blaine as Hades and Persephone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rapture

**Author's Note:**

> [Other Gods Mentioned:
> 
> Finn as Zeus / Head God of Sky
> 
> Kurt as Hades / God of Death
> 
> Blaine as Persephone / God of Spring
> 
> Tina as Demeter / Goddess of Harvest
> 
> Brittany as Aphrodite / Goddess of Love
> 
> Mike as Apollo / God of Healing, Law, Music, and Prophecy
> 
> The Warblers as Nymphs / Minor Nature Deities]

* * *

 

Kurt’s never been to Dalton before.

Actually, that’s not quite true, but it’s been nearly a century since he’s stepped foot here.  Things just don’t die in Dalton—he thinks it’s the eternal springtime, all that summer and warmth, keeps things alive well beyond their prime.  _Personally_ , he thinks the whole endless summer spiel would get old after a while, would make life boring and uninteresting, but what does he know?  This, technically, isn’t his realm—it belongs to Tina, he thinks, though he’s not certain.

But, well, he is Death.  And he’s got a dead bird to take care of.

He finds the bird outside, in the lap of a boy-creature of Spring, decorated in brightly-colored feathers and a white robe.  Kurt thinks that means he’s a Warbler, a minor nymph of flight and song, but this boy in particular seems— _stronger_.  He might be dressed as a Warbler, trying to pass himself off as something minor and petty, but he’s most definitely something more.

He proves it, when he turns and looks up at Kurt with bright gold-gleamed eyes, and his beauty nearly knocks Kurt to his knees.

“I think he’s dying,” the boy says sadly, cradling the bird—the entire stupid reason Kurt is even  _here_ , don’t forget it just because a pretty boy bats his eyelashes at you, dummy—softly between his hands.  “He hasn’t eaten in days.”

Kurt kneels beside the boy, and he runs a hand over the top of the bird’s head, a phantom imitation of a touch.  “What’s his name?” He asks, though he doesn’t care about the bird so much as the boy holding him.

“Pavarotti.” The boy looks over at him, and he’s—he’s not as young and Kurt thought, perhaps.  “He’s my favorite.  I know it’s stupid to get so attached to a bird, but—“

Kurt softens.  “He’s your friend.”

“Yeah,” The boy sniffs.  “My name is Blaine.”

“…Kurt.” He offers, and gently takes the bird from Blaine’s hands as it gasps, and tweets its last breath.  Blaine sucks in his breath, letting big, fat ugly tears roll down his cheek, and—

—He’s  _so_ pretty.  Unnaturally so.

Kurt looks away from him and turns back to the bird.  He folds the bird’s wings gently, and then presses the bird into the ground, so that its body can become one with the earth and its soul can be released, and he  _notices_  something.

“That—Pavarotti wasn’t from Dalton, was he?” Kurt asks softly, once Blaine begins to dry his eyes.  “He was just a common bird, mortal and—he shouldn’t have lived as long as he did.”  Blaine looks down at the ground, not wanting to look Kurt in the eye.  “What  _are_ you, Blaine Warbler?”

Blaine doesn’t look up, but he does start playing with the feathers hanging around his neck.  “I know I shouldn’t have taken him,” he whispers softly.  “But he was the only thing I loved about my life before I came here.  I thought I could keep him alive forever, but I guess all things die eventually.”

Kurt—tentatively—brushes back a lock of Blaine’s hair, and nothing happens.  “You aren’t a Warbler, are you?”

Blaine’s eyes shine golden like the sun.  “No, I’m not.”

 

* * *

 

“I was found in a field of wheat by a farmer and his wife when I was just a baby,” Blaine tells him as they walk along Dalton’s grounds.  “They didn’t know where I came from, or how long I had been there, so they took me in and raised me as their own.”

Kurt tries to imagine that—a young and clearly ethereal Blaine, bustling with power, trapped in the life and family of a mortal—and laughs.  “How humble.”

“It was,” Blaine smiles lightly.  “I had an older brother who liked to keep me modest.”

“Do you still see them?”

Blaine shakes his head.  “No—no, they died a—a long time ago.”  He looks up at the sky suddenly.  “I think I might still have a great, great niece or nephew out there somewhere, but I haven’t left Dalton in so long, I wouldn’t know where to look.”

Kurt walks beside Blaine, and lets their hands brush against each other as they walk.  It feels so  _nice_ just to—to talk to someone, to  _touch_  someone again.  He’s forgotten how lonely he’s been.  “How did you come to Dalton?”

Blaine shrugs.  “I was always different from everyone else.  I had a special relationship with plants.  I made the crops on my father’s farm grow bigger and better than everyone else’s, and the weather in my village was always sunny and pleasant.  But I’m immortal.  My parents, my brother, my friends—they all got older and older, and I just—stopped.” He leans down and nurtures a flower that’s been trampled on, restoring it back to full life.  “The villagers eventually became suspicious, and thought me unnatural, so they tried to kill me.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow.  “I take it it didn’t work?”

“It hurt a lot, but it didn’t work, no.” Blaine shakes his head.  “I prayed to the Gods, and Mike found me.  And he—brought me here, so I’ve been here ever since.”  He looks back up to the sky, watches the birds as they fly about their business.  “Pavarotti was the last thing from my old life.  I’ll miss him.”

Kurt—Kurt is normally not so bold, but he reaches down and grabs Blaine’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “Are you happy here?”

Blaine looks down at his hand, and then back at Kurt.  “I—I suppose I am?” He says quietly, like he’s not quite sure of the answer.  “I’m safe here.  Nobody’s tried to hurt me here.  The Warblers are friendly, and Tina visits me occasionally, so it’s not like I lack companionship, it’s just—“

“Boring?” Kurt offers, and Blaine’s blushes brightly.

“That’s a silly thing to complain about, isn’t it?” Blaine laughs lightly, his cheeks pink and soft and oh-so-lovely.  Kurt wonders, suddenly, what it would be like to kiss him.

He bites his bottom lip and looks down at the ground, at where he buried Pavarotti.  He can’t believe he’s about to even  _say_  this, but—“You could come with me, if you want.”

Blaine head snaps up.  “Excuse me?”

“Come with me,” Kurt repeats, and he squeezes Blaine’s hand once more.  “It’ll be nice.  Change of scenery.”

Blaine’s cheeks flush pink again, and Kurt tries his hardest not to think about why he’s blushing.  “And where would we be going, exactly?”

“The Underworld,” Kurt offers kindly.  “It doesn’t have the best reputation, but nothing there could harm you.  And it would be an adventure.”

Blaine closes his eyes, and lets the breeze warm his face.  “Could I see my family again? And Pavarotti, perhaps?”

Kurt laughs. “I could arrange that, yes.”

Blaine nudges him with his shoulder.  “And I would—hang around with you, I suppose.”

Kurt tries not blush.  “Only if you wanted to.”

“Is there anyone else in the Underworld?  Or is it just you?”

“Just me.” Kurt smiles sadly.  “A lot of dead people, but they aren’t always the best of company.”

“…That sounds lonely.”

“I,” Kurt bites his lip.  “It can be, I suppose.”

Blaine smiles brightly, and squeezes his hand.  “Then it would be cruel of me to leave you lonely, wouldn’t it?”

Kurt gets quiet for a moment, and watches not the setting sun, but the boy beside him, the one he found entirely by accident.  He is  _so_ handsome, and kind, and brave, and Kurt has loved him from the moment he has laid eyes on him.  He suspects this is Brittany’s fault somehow, but he can’t even be angry enough at her to care.  Not when she’s brought him someone like Blaine.

“You’d follow Death, then?” He whispers quietly as the sun fades in the distance.  “Follow him to the Underworld, and stay by his side?”

Blaine only smiles.  “It’s an adventure, isn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

END

…and then Tina shows up and starts freezing the mortals out and giving Finn an earful because Kurt’s kidnapped her favorite toy and Kurt whines because he _loves him_  and also Kurt never gets  _anything,_ and Blaine is all “man guys these pomegranate seeds are great wait what’s wrong why are my Warbler friends all evil now???”


End file.
